


Car Radio

by asimpleword



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Septiplier - Freeform, You might need tissues, i dont think you will, idk - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimpleword/pseuds/asimpleword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em></em><br/>I have these thoughts<br/>So often I ought<br/>To replace that slot<br/>With what I once bought<br/>'Cause somebody stole<br/>My car radio<br/>And now I just sit in silence<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Radio

**Author's Note:**

> This is quite dark at the beginning. I've been going through a very rough patch right now and this was a vent piece. There's not much I can say about it other than it can be triggering.

_I ponder of something great_   
_My lungs will fill and then deflate_   
_They fill with fire_   
_Exhale desire_   
_I know it's dire_   
_My time today_

He screams, raw, agonized as tears stream their way down his cheeks hot and wet. He can't stop, doesn't seem to register just exactly what he's doing. All he knows is his heart feels like it's going to stop, thrumming loud and fast in his chest. Adrenaline rushes through him like a drug, wheezing in effort to drag in enough air.

He doesn't know how long he screams for, how long it takes for his legs to feel so numb and weak it causes him to fall to his knees. He's so exhausted, he wants to sleep forever. He wants to _die_.

He can barely hear his own wrecked sobs, something clattering to the floor and it sounds so loud it's like it's right in his head. His hands curl into fists to replace the emptiness they feel. He wishes he could do the same for the hole in his chest.

  
_I have these thoughts_  
 _So often I ought_  
 _To replace that slot_  
 _With what I once bought_  
 _'Cause somebody stole_  
 _My car radio_  
 _And now I just sit in silence_

 

Silence.

 

It's too quiet, too quiet and he can't take it. He pounds his fists into the floor, meeting hard wood over and over and over until he physically can't anymore. His arms tremble with the effort of holding himself up, knuckles bleeding and the rest of his hands are red hot. They were already beginning to flourish with the promise of bruises. He hopes he's broken something.

When his hands can't hold him steady anymore, he drops onto his elbows and yanks on his hair, hoping it's painful enough to distract him from what he's feeling.

  
_Sometimes quiet is violent_   
_I find it hard to hide it_   
_My pride is no longer inside_   
_It's on my sleeve_   
_My skin will scream_   
_Reminding me of_   
_Who I killed inside my dream_   
_I hate this car that I'm driving_   
_There's no hiding for me_   
_I'm forced to deal with what I feel_   
_There is no distraction to mask what is real_   
_I could pull the steering wheel_

He doesn't want to feel anything but his own pain. He doesn't want to face his own mind. He knows if he does he'll be completely submerged in his own dark thoughts and horrible nightmares that were so close to becoming realities. He knows he could stop it, so easily. He would be gone and maybe wherever the hell he went afterwards wouldn't feel so cold and agonizingly lonely.

  
_I have these thoughts_  
 _So often I ought_  
 _To replace that slot_  
 _With what I once bought_  
 _'Cause somebody stole_  
 _My car radio_  
 _And now I just sit in silence_

His throat feels tight, impossibly dry and burning like a wildfire he's never felt before. Terror, so much terror winds through his limbs and sinks it's cold fingers into every inch of his clammy skin.

  
_I ponder of something terrifying_   
_'Cause this time there's no sound to hide behind_   
_I find over the course of our human existence_   
_One thing consists of consistence_   
_And it's that we're all battling fear_   
_Oh dear, I don't know if we know why we're here_   
_Oh my,_   
_Too deep_   
_Please stop thinking_   
_I liked it better when my car had sound_

He's shaking, trembling so hard he feels like he's lost complete control over himself. His fingers are still weaved into his hair, trying to breathe without shuddering and gasping. He's so, so scared and he doesn't know what to do. He feels like he's losing his mind without a chance of stopping it from happening.

  
_There are things we can do_   
_But from the things that work there are only two_   
_And from the two that we choose to do_   
_Peace will win_   
_And fear will lose_   
_There's faith and there's sleep_   
_We need to pick one please because_   
_Faith is to be awake_   
_And to be awake is for us to think_   
_And for us to think is to be alive_   
_And I will try with every rhyme_   
_To come across like I am dying_   
_To let you know you need to try to think_

His watery eyes blink, over and over again. They feel rubbed raw and they're so swollen he knows it's beginning to affect his vision but he can't find himself to care. Maybe if he closes them they won't open again.

 

But he knows that won't happen.

  
_I have these thoughts_   
_So often I ought_   
_To replace that slot_   
_With what I once bought_   
_'Cause somebody stole_   
_My car radio_

___And now I just sit in silence  
_ _ _

Tremors hit him like tidal waves, and he can't help his quiet whimpers. Now that the adrenaline had started to trickle away he felt the pain, all of it seeping into him at once and it was too much, too much. The unbearable sting and burn on his arms, thin cuts beading with blood. There's too many of them, too many to count. Not deep enough to be fatal but they overwhelm him with pain. His knuckles are throbbing, even more blood racing down his hands over bruises and red, swollen bumps from where he'd hit the floor. He thinks they hurt worse than his arms.

He aches, and can no longer even rest himself on his elbows and calves. He collapses in a painful heap on his side onto the cold floor below him with a breathy, pitiful whine. It almost feels sort of nice on his heated skin.

Everything in him just gives out, completely limp and overused. He feels so drained, and so, so tired. All he can do is curl up as small as possible. His heavy eyes don't focus on anything, blankly staring ahead. He doesn't hear the door opening behind him, or slamming shut.

 

_**"Sean!"** _

 

It's in that moment he regrets everything that he's done, guilt twisting heavy like lead and ugly in his chest. He can so clearly hear the anguish and panicked horror in his voice. Tears well in his eyes as Mark suddenly falls into his vision, thudding hard onto his knees and scooping Jack into his lap with a grip underneath his shoulders and behind his knees. He still can't find the strength to even focus on Mark's face, but he knows he's frowning, saying things he doesn't understand and choking back sobs.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I thought- I thought you were dead, I thought you were gone. Oh my god, Jack, please don't ever do that to me again. I can't lose you, please. Please." Mark weeps. He's holding Jack so gently, so loving. He rocks Jack back and forth, breathing shakily in and out as he cries. It tears him apart to know that he so badly hurt someone who cares deeply about him.

He can feel more tears (he doesn't know how he has any left), cascading down his face. Mark brushes his fingers across his face and wipes them away. Jack reaches up a trembling hand of his own, sweeping his fingertips against the soft of Mark's cheek and cupping it in his hand. It hurts to do so, but he can't bring himself to pull away just yet.

When he can focus on something, it's to red rimmed, beautiful brown.

"Hey, hey lovely. Look at me. You'll be okay, I promise. God, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry, I love you. I love you so much, Sean." He sounds desperate and scared.

"I-I'm sorry," Jack utters. His voice is scratchy and hoarse; it's barely there at all.

"No, no. Don't be sorry. I'm just glad you're okay. I can't- I can't imagine not having you."

He doesn't know what to say. It feels unreal that Mark is his, somehow. That this man could have someone who wasn't so broken, and yet chose him.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, Mark still rocking him back and forth, hunched over him as if he could protect him from the demons in his head. Before long, when Jack is tired and worn out, Mark slowly clambers to his feet and carries him down the hall to the bathroom.

"Whu'?" Is all he can manage, sleepy and confused.

"We're going to get you washed up and then get some sleep, because we're both exhausted and it's late."

Jack frowns, just then seems to remember the blood on his hands and arms. Deep embarrassment and shame swell inside of him unpleasantly; they burn like a wildfire of negativity, slowly consuming him until it's all he can think or feel. He curls into the space under Mark's chin and hides his face as he starts to tremble again.

"It's alright, it'll be okay. I love you so much, Jack." Mark murmurs. His soft words help clear Jack's mind before he's too clouded by uncertainty to think straight. 

Mark carefully sets him down onto their bed, brushing back Jack's mussed hair and leaning down to place a loving kiss upon his forehead.

"Stay right here. I'll go start the bath." He whispers, and Jack still wonders how on earth he managed to be so incredibly lucky. He feels so undeserving of the love and care he's given. Mark is so pure, so amazing, and Jack is tainted and shattered near past the point of being unfixable. But somehow, Mark has managed to weave between his broken pieces and love them back together again with soft words and meaningful touches.

When Mark comes back, Jack tries to slowly slide his feet off the bed, only to nearly crumple to the floor from how weak he is. Mark darts to catch him with wide eyes.

"Woah, it's okay. I gotcha. C'mon."

Mark helps him to the bathroom, gently tugs off his clothes as not to hurt him. Once Jack is in the warm water, Mark strips off his own clothes and slowly sinks down behind him.

Jack doesn't mention how the water stings his wounds, but Mark already seems to know, by how gentle is when he pours water over them; he tries to be as careful as possible when scrubbing the dried blood off. He likes this, he thinks, Mark's arms around him and his hands, comforting on his screaming skin.

"Can...can you sing?" He asks. He winces at his own voice. It sounds absolutely wrecked.

"I sure can." Mark hums.

There's a moment where Jack can hear him pause, then inhale.

He starts singing Here by Alessia Cara, and Jack's lip twitches in a shadow of a smile. He knows it's Mark's favorite song lately.

When they're both washed, Mark presses a kiss to his shoulder, hooking his chin over it and leaning his head into the juncture between it and his shoulder. His stomach bubbles with something enlightening and warm at the display of affection. Neither of them say anything, the only sound the slow, steady drip of the faucet and their own relaxed breaths. It's quiet, but the good kind of quiet. He doesn't have to battle his own mind or struggle with doing a task as simple as breathing.

"Let's get out and get some sleep, the water's getting chilly." Mark interjects his thoughts, and Jack nods in answer. He releases a quiet, content sigh. He felt much better, mentally and physically. The weights tying him down loosened and the tightness in his chest was no longer there.

He shivers as cold air sweeps across his skin, bringing goosebumps in it's wake. Mark doesn't seem as affected by it, and leads the two of them back to the bedroom to get dressed. Jack purposefully steals some of his things just because he likes knowing exactly who's clothes hes wearing. The looser fit adds to the comfort and Jack feels snuggly and warm by the time the two of them clamber into bed with hooded eyes and sleepy smiles. He loves how he fits perfectly into the curve of Mark's body, forehead pressed into his chest and their hands intertwined. He no longer feels the swirling, drowning dread in his chest or the monsters screeching in his head. He feels the love that Mark gives, and instead of pain, he feels his gentle finger tips on his skin and the kisses he plants whenever he can.

"Jack, I love you so much. So, so much. You mean the world to me and I'm incredibly lucky to have someone so vibrant and colorful in my life. You are the most beautiful human being I have ever laid eyes upon and I still can't believe you ever returned my feelings. I still can't. But I really do love you, and I want you to know that." Jack can't see Mark's face hardly at all through the darkness, but he can hear the suspicious croak in his voice.

"I love you too, Mark. I don't deserve someone as amazing as you. I truly don't." He breathes, in and out, to avoid the tears he can feel building in his eyes. He can't find the right words to say, but Mark doesn't seem to mind.

"You're silly to think that." Mark chuckles, but it's fond and Jack grins wide.

"Goodnight, Mark." He whispers, presses a kiss to where he can faintly see Mark's nose.

"Goodnight, Sean." Mark whispers back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the italics are fucked up. AO3 keeps messing them up and won't let me fix them.


End file.
